An Afternoon Chat
by Kirah Ruth
Summary: Remus eavesdrops on a conversation between his father and Dumbledore about his attending of Hogwarts. There is no excuse for how plotless this is. 11 year old Remus is cute.


Disclaimer: _Fan_fiction. Can I be a fan of something if I own it? No. No I cannot.

An eleven-year-old Remus Lupin crept down the stairs with stealth that only a child with much experience sneaking around could achieve; he avoided each creaking step, hopping over one of them, and nearly held his breath in his desire to be completely silent.

He reached the landing and hovered on the last step, his back pressed against the left wall. If he stretched his arm out (which he didn't), he could brush his fingers against the frame of the open door to the sitting room. He couldn't get any closer without being seen, and even with their voices carefully hushed he could hear them perfectly well from where he was.

"I don't know, Albus. He really hasn't had much interaction with children his age before, you understand. He's never even spent a night away from home, except for those at Saint Mungo's…" his father trailed off, realizing he didn't need to explain that any more.

"I have no doubt that the boy will adjust, Mr. Lupin. And consider the rewards! He will have an education, friends, a chance at a career and a life. It would be the greatest gift you could give your son." Albus Dumbledore- Remus had never heard him speak before, but he knew him through his father's stories- had a rich voice that somehow sounded grand even when hushed down to a whisper. He immediately liked him.

"What about the other students, though? And the teachers? Not to mention the board of governors… they can't be happy about this."

"The student's won't be told, of course, since it doesn't affect them and it would only ostracize Remus. The teachers would be told on a need-to-know basis, though of course if they have any objections they will discuss them with me and not with Remus. And as for the board of governors, they have no say over who I choose to admit to my school." There was no hesitation, only a confident firmness in the way he brushed off the disapproval. Remus' admiration grew.

There was a long pause. "I don't know, Albus. Dippet was quite firm in his rejection of Remus… he said it was for the safety of the students."

"Dippet was… shall we say… old-fashioned in his view of werewolves. 'Savage, volatile beasts' were his exact words, I believe. I have no hesitation in saying he was utterly mistaken. I am completely confident that Remus is no more savage nor volatile than you or I."

Another long pause. Remus was starting to get tired of standing on the stairs. Finally, his father spoke. "I don't think I can do this. He wouldn't be happy there."

"I can guarantee you that Remus' years at Hogwarts will be the best in his life, John." Dumbledore said in a soft, friendly voice.

Remus had stepped off the stair and into the sitting room before he could fully realize what he was doing. "I want to go, dad," he said firmly. It wasn't until a few minutes later that he would realize how strange the action was for him; for the moment, he met his father's eye.

"Well!" Dumbledore exclaimed. "This is the boy himself, then? Well met, Remus, well met." Dumbledore's appearance was almost as startling as his voice; indigo robes that just might have had stars embroidered in, or perhaps that was the light; a long, silver beard that matched the rest of his hair and appeared to have tiny braids in it; his smile was just a hint on the side of mischievous.

Abruptly, Remus realized that all eyes in the room were fixed on him. He felt blood rise to his cheeks, unwanted. "I- It's a pleasure to meet you, Dumbledore, sir," he stammered, the manners that had been drilled into him by his well-bred French mother fighting with his urge to escape being the center of attention.

"Well, then," Dumbledore said, turning back to John. "Now that the boy's had his say, what's your decision?"

John turned to his wife, obviously fighting with the ingrained urge to give his son what he obviously wanted so badly. "Olivia?"

His mother looked up from her manicured nails and met her husband's eyes. "Let him go, John."

John sighed and nodded, and a virtual geyser of relief erupted in Remus. He couldn't stop himself from smiling brightly.

"If that's all settled- and I'm quite sure it is- I'm afraid I must be on my way," Dumbledore said brusquely. He got up in a flurry of bold color and twinkling of the stars on his robes. As he approached the doorway, he smiled at Remus in a way that was almost sad. "You're a smart boy, Remus. I'm positive that there will be others who see as an intelligent, kind person. You just need to seek them out." Albus' smile lost its hint of sadness. "Also, I'd recommend not eavesdropping once you get to Hogwarts; the poltergeist _hates_ it." Remus stared at him, completely at a loss for words. He wasn't even sure he knew what a poltergeist was, and his imagination threw out some rather morbid ideas. Dumbledore chuckled lightly and reached into a bag that was dangling from the sash of his robes; he drew out a small yellow candy. "Lemon drop?" he offered.

Remus took it without thinking, popping it into his mouth. It was both sour and sweet, and it cheered him up almost immediately. Dumbledore walked down the hallway, and Olivia scrambled to get ahead of him in order to open the door like a polite hostess. "So good of you to visit, Albus," she said quickly, her French accent making the words seem almost haughty. Dumbledore nodded and spared a quick glance back at Remus, who was still standing in the doorway between the sitting room and the hall.

"Your letter and your book list will be showing up in about a week, Remus," Dumbledore said lightly. "I trust I will see you on the first of September."

With that, Dumbledore left, the entry suddenly seeming terribly dull without the bizarre presence of a wizard with indigo robes and twinkling eyes.

Remus decided, right then and there, that he had a new idol.

A/N: Written in about 10 minutes on a random whim. Probably not the beginning of anything; I say "probably" because my muse is so eccentric you never really know.

Also written because 1) Dumbledore rocks, whether he's straight, bent, or a eunuch, and 2) The mental image of 11-year-old Remus was haunting me. He's just _so cute_.

No Dumbledore/Remus is meant with this piece, and if you so much as imply that, I am sorry, but I will be forced to come after you with sharp objects. Blunt ones as well.


End file.
